


Domesticity

by SnowyWolff



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Blow Jobs, Domestic Fluff, Hand Jobs, Multi, OT3, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 15:09:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16976916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowyWolff/pseuds/SnowyWolff
Summary: They had settled on an agreement. They had to because otherwise they would never get to see each other beside worldly politics and that was just a terribly depressive thought.***Matthew loves his boyfriends dearly and this is how they spend their weekends together.





	1. At Gilbert's

They had settled on an agreement. They had to because otherwise they would never get to see each other beside worldly politics and that was just a terribly depressive thought.

So they reserve a weekend, once a month, to spend entirely in each other’s presence. It is a tentatively new arrangement, in their tentatively new relationship.

Well, Matthew likes to call it a relationship. Gilbert often calls it a treaty. Lovino dismisses it as a compromise of mutual interest. Honestly, it’s that Matthew knows that they’re all in love with each other that he allows their stubbornness to slide.

The first weekend they spend together, they spend at Gilbert’s. Or better, at Ludwig’s. That is, until Lovino decides that he does not want to spend his time in Germany’s _basement, for fuck_ _’s sake, Gilbert_ , so they end up searching for an apartment for most of Friday and Saturday. Ludwig gladly funds the adventure, confiding into Matthew that he is somewhat glad to have Gilbert stand on his own two feet again.

Lovino somehow interprets it as Ludwig wanting to rid himself of his older brother, so as some weird, petty, twisted revenge, he fixes Gilbert a gorgeous apartment just outside of Potsdam. It’s more a penthouse suite, taking up most of the top floor, with huge windows and a balcony overseeing a large neighbouring park.

When Matthew asks how much it costs, Lovino dismisses it as something Ludwig could take care of because Gilbert _had damn well raised him_.

They’re walking around the big empty space on Sunday, Ludwig pulling other strings to get them a contract and the keys earlier than should ever be possible. Gilbert is keeping a list of things he needs for when he moves in, as his basement stuff barely even fills the new bedroom, and from time to time Lovino and Matthew walk by it and cross out things he absolutely does not need at all.

“Why can’t I have a pool table?” Gilbert whines.

“I can give you a whole list as to why not,” Lovino sneers, scowling at him from where he stands in the middle of the would-be living room.

Matthew leans on the counter of the open kitchen so he can keep an eye on both his boyfriends in case of escalations.

“Well, I can give a lot of reasons as to why it’d be a great purchase!”

“D’you need some paper to write those down too?”

Gilbert huffs, stalking up to Lovino to loom over him. Lovino, never one to back down from a fight, meets his eye haughtily.

“You’re such a spoilsport,” Gilbert says and leans closer to whisper, “Any idea what we could _do_ on a pool table?”

Lovino’s nostrils flare, but the corners of his mouth twitch in clear bemusement. He presses his lips in a thin line when Gilbert takes his hand.

Gilbert runs his thumb across his knuckles, leaning impossibly closer. Lovino counters this by leaning back himself. It starts to become ridiculous when Gilbert starts to make kissy-noises and Lovino goes to extremes not to indulge him, spine at an odd angle and the most valiant effort yet to not burst out in laughter. He fails when he finally loses his precarious balance and they topple to the floor. Gilbert wastes no time in pinning Lovino down and peppering him with kisses as the other snorts with laughter.

“ _Danke_ ,” he sighs again and again between kisses until Lovino grabs his cheeks and forces him to press their lips together.

Matthew watches in amusement, supporting his head in his hand. He loves their contrast, the way Gilbert’s pink lips look melded with Lovino’s dark ones, how Lovino’s freckles stand starkly against his dark skin while Gilbert’s are sometimes hardly noticeable, or how Gilbert’s hair catches the light of the setting sun, burning tresses as Lovino’s dark fingers run through it.

They break apart slowly, and Gilbert sits up, straddling Lovino’s lap as Lovino’s fingers slide down his arms. They glance at Matthew, both a little flushed, and he chuckles, walking around the counter and kneeling on the floor next to them. He runs a hand through Lovino’s soft curls and kisses Gilbert.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says to them and loves the reaction those simple words incur.

Lovino blushes bright red and smiles, honest and freely, though his does try to hide it poorly behind his hand. Gilbert’s flush starts below the collar of shirt, slowly creeping up his neck and colouring his ears. He glances down, catches Lovino’s eye, flushes even more and quickly looks away altogether.

“Not so much now,” Lovino says, pushing up a little, touching Gilbert’s cheek. “Lobster.”

Matthew laughs as Gilbert flushes even further, pouting. Lovino takes the opportunity to peck his lips, then wriggles a little so he can fully sit up and kiss Matthew, lingering as if to catch up.

“Now,” Matthew says, patting their thighs, “what shall we order for takeout?”

Gilbert immediately bounces to his feet, rattling off his favourite fast food places he knows in Potsdam. Lovino groans because he hates takeout and lies back down on the floor. Yet, he has to agree that cooking in a barely equipped kitchen was out of the question. And besides, he likes to indulge Gilbert, so in the end the only thing he demands it’s that whatever they’re ordering isn’t Italian because if there’s anything worse than German cuisine, it’s German cuisine pretending to be Italian.

Gilbert eventually decides on Chinese, walking around the empty rooms as he orders, adding onto his list in a sudden bout of productivity. Lovino refuses to move from the floor at the stage and makes a home of Matthew’s lap as the Canadian absently brushed his hair.

Gilbert joins them once the food arrives, and Matthew sidles up next to him as Lovino remembers that eating while lying down is not a great plan.

Matthew makes great use of his position wedged between his boyfriends, occasionally stealing from either’s box.

Lovino hisses as Matthew goes in for some more shrimp, using his fork to block Matthew’s chopsticks. “You have your _own_ damn food, Matthew.”

“But I want yours,” Matthew sings, snapping his chopsticks together threateningly. “Now—”

Gilbert spears the contested shellfish, humming as he plops it in his mouth. “You two need to grow up.”

The look Lovino shoots him catches somewhere between I-do-not-want-to-hear-that-coming-from-you and I-cannot-believe-you-just-betrayed-me-like-that-how-dare?

You,” he growls.

“Gilbert, out of all of us, I can honestly say you have no right whatsoever to accuse us of immaturity,” Matthew says dryly. “You owe me some of your duck now, though.”

“I’ll fight you for it.” Gilbert brandishes his chopstick, just the one because he’s hopeless and refuses to use a fork instead.

Matthew grins and, with quick movements, slaps Gilbert’s hands. Gilbert yelps and Matthew takes his price.

“And after a short, decisive battle,” he says in his best impression of a sport game announcer, “Canada defeats the Kingdom of Prussia with minimal losses on the field.”

Gilbert narrows his eyes, and Lovino wisely decides to scoot out of harm’s way, manoeuvring food containers away from both contestants, as Gilbert lunges for Matthew. The Canadian catches his hands, but is not quite prepared by Gilbert’s weight, hitting the floor with an _oomph_.

Gilbert is quick to pin him down, straddling his waist and holding his arms above his head. Gilbert grins and takes his victory spoils, kissing Matthew hungrily.

“The Kingdom of Prussia rules,” Gilbert mutters before slipping his tongue into Matthew’s mouth, tasting of spicy Peking duck, and Matthew couldn’t quite muffle the groan as Gilbert shifted just _so_.

“You’re both fools,” Lovino says through a mouthful.

Gilbert and Matthew glance at him, look as Lovino sits cross-legged behind his acquired food, twirling some beef on his fork thoughtfully before he eats it. And he looks so very smug, so very handsome that Matthew has half a mind to kiss that expression off his face, to unbutton his shirt and undo his belt—But Gilbert is still in the way, and also not helping the situation _at all_ with the way he sits on Matthew’s crotch, and _also_ also no longer doing anything about that because he has caught Lovino’s bait so, so easily.

“You,” Gilbert says, and he’s halfway across the space between them before he pauses and realizes Lovino’s plan. “ _You_.”

The Republic of Italy raises an eyebrow, grinning as he holds up Matthew’s contained in a victory toast. “ _Viva l_ _’Italia_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is blamed on Gizmo who, when I was stuck in an airport for an entire night after missing the last train to my hotel, convinced me to write some smut for this severely underrated OT3 and then it just straight-up ended up as this entire fic. It was originally titled the “I have to stay at an airport for 7 hours without sleep due to delay” smut fic :) in my notebook and I felt that was important to share.


	2. At Lovino's

The next month is at Lovino’s private home near Syracuse, tucked away in the countryside. It is small, cozy and just a little outlandish, with large holm oaks and a small garden filled with so many flowers and herbs it almost looks unkempt.

Lovino cooks dinner as Gilbert walks around his grounds, impressed and _on an adventure, Lovino, shut up._

Matthew offered to help him so often that Lovino eventually took pity on him and allowed him to cut vegetables and help prepare the salad. He manages to focus for approximately three minutes before the noises of Lovino seemingly doing everything at once has him almost cutting his fingers off.

He rubs his fingers absently as he watches Lovino work. The way he moves smoothly, gracefully around the kitchen, adding ingredients, tasting sauces, stirring pasta. It’s frankly hypnotizing, even as he does the most basic of tasks.

It makes Matthew hyper aware of his own long, spindly limbs, though he’s hardly ever clumsy. Not like Lovino is the moment he steps outside of the kitchen. It’s as if Lovino had made a deal a long time ago to be skillful in the kitchen, but then the spell breaks when he leaves and trips over his own feet, often taking a vase or picture frame with him.

Matthew chuckles, catching Lovino’s attention. He walks over, resting a hand on the small of Matthew’s back, taking his fingers and observing the cut. Before he can comment on it, Matthew twists in his grip and kisses him.

Lovino doesn’t startle anymore. He used to for the first month or so, unused to Matthew’s inability to stop kissing the people he loves, some bad habit he must have inherited from Francis somehow. Between that and the loving touches, Lovino had gotten used to the love and attention quite quickly.

Now he kisses back and smiles into it as his hand moves lower, squeezing Matthew’s butt. He whispers something Italian in his ear, something husky and decidedly filthy Matthew’s sure. Even if his Italian is poor at best, he can just tell by the quality of Lovino’s voice, and his hand making his intentions quite clear.

“Taking him all for yourself, huh?” Gilbert remarks dryly from the entryway, leaning against the frame. His eyes are twinkling, an intensity to them that has Matthew remembering that Gilbert _does_ actually speak Italian. “So stingy, Lovi.”

Lovino makes a show of kissing Matthew, running his tongue across his lower lip before slipping it in his mouth. He leaves Matthew breathless as he breaks the kiss with a wet _pop_ , giving Gilbert a look before he turns back to the stove.

Matthew clutches the kitchen counter, bright red and reeling. As much as he likes to tease Lovino, he doesn’t think he can ever get used to how Lovino and Gilbert sometimes make a point of using him to demonstrate their skills to each other—that is, if they don’t feel like doing it _with_ each other instead.

He breathes deeply as Gilbert slips his arm around his waist and squeezes his hip, hiding his face in the crook of the German’s neck momentarily.

Gilbert chuckles. “Lovino getting you all hot and bothered, Mattie?” His hand travels over his trousers, hovers above his crotch, and Matthew almost wishes he had just taken a nap on the couch instead. His belt comes undone before he even realizes it and he grabs Gilbert’s hand before it can delve in. “No need to be shy, _Schatz_.”

“Not in my kitchen, you animal,” Lovino says as he drains the pasta.

“Why not?” Gilbert sounds petulant, pressing a kiss to Matthew’s cheek before stepping toward Lovino to have a proper argument. Matthew is silently grateful, zipping his pants back up.

“Because I say so.” Lovino turns around and waves a wooden spoon underneath his nose. “If you want dinner, you’d do better to remember that.”

“Or else?”

Matthew catches the challenge and intervenes before any spoons could be shoved into anyone’s holes. He effectively slides in between his boyfriends, grabbing Lovino’s wrist with one hand and tugging on Gilbert’s ear with the other. Gilbert whines loudly, having to stoop because Matthew wasn’t accommodating him in the slightest.

“Let Lovi cook; I’m hungry,” Matthew says, dropping his hand to Gilbert’s shoulder. He smiles at Lovino, pressing a quick kiss to his knuckles. “You don’t need my help anymore, do you?”

Lovino snorts, a nice blush colouring his cheeks. “Never needed it. Go set the table outside or something.” He waves them away, turning back to the stove to steer the sauce.

Matthew finds the plates while Gilbert rattles through the drawers to find the cutlery. Lovino pushes a bottle of wine in his arms as well, pecking his cheek as an apology. Gilbert just grins.

The patio is a small tiled space just around the corner of the back door, covered by a wooden overhang overgrown with vines. It is lit by fairy lights, though one large lamp hangs above the wooden table. Right now, it offers a beautiful view of the setting sun lighting the vineyards that vanish beyond the horizon.

Gilbert drops the cutlery on the table unceremoniously and places the wine in the centre before he falls into a chair, sighing in content. Matthew rolls his eyes at him, setting the table until he reaches Gilbert, who pulls him onto his lap.

“Gil,” he warns.

Gilbert hushes him, pressing his lips against Matthew’s neck. “Let me enjoy you for a moment,” he murmurs as he wraps his arms around Matthew.

And for a moment it really is just him peppering kisses across his shoulders until he lingers on a spot at the base of Matthew’s neck. He grazes it with his teeth and Matthew can just barely swallow back the moan it elicits.

“Gil,” he groans when the German’s hand moves up his t-shirt and grazes his bare skin, playing with the curls at the base of his stomach. Before it could dip any lower, Matthew grabs it, breathing deeply.

Gilbert chuckles, but presses one last kiss to Matthew’s jaw before he leans back and holds up his hands in surrender.

Lovino walks onto the patio with the salad and three wine glasses not much later, raising an eyebrow at Matthew’s still slightly uneven breathing, then turns to Gilbert as if he has guessed what had just occurred.

“Teasing Matthew again?” he asks as he sits opposite of Gilbert, leaving the seat at the head for Matthew. It is probably so he can kick Gilbert more easily if his table manners aren’t up to his standards.

“Me? Teasing? I wouldn’t dare.” Gilbert grins, leaning forward coyly. “It was entirely consensual.”

Lovino looks at Matthew. “He can sleep outside if you’d like.”

Gilbert’s noise of protest is cut off by Matthew’s thoughtful sigh. “Maybe. Three in one bed in this weather is rather hot…”

“Mattie,” Gilbert whines as Lovino arranges the salad on their plates. “I mean, you’re absolutely right, but why not kick Lovi out instead?”

“It’s my house, dipshit.”

“It’s his house, Gilbie,” Matthew purrs.

Gilbert kicks him.

“We could sleep outside,” Lovino says after a thoughtful pause. He hides his embarrassment behind a sip of wine as Matthew and Gilbert look at him curiously.

Matthew swallows his mouthful hastily before saying, “That would be—”

“Kinky?” Gilbert offers with a waggle of his eyebrows. It earns him a kick from both his boyfriends.

“I was going to say, ‘nice,’” Matthew finishes. “You mean, here on the patio?”

“There’s a grass hill a little that way.” Lovino gestures to somewhere past Matthew’s shoulders. “It gives a gorgeous view of the stars on clear nights and if the wind stands just right, you can smell the vineyards and the ocean.” He drifts off, then flushes as if he’s said too much, staring at his plate and moving an olive around with his fork.

“That sounds wonderful, Lovi,” Matthew says, covering Lovino’s curled fist with his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze.

“Yeah, totally awesome. Really romantic,” Gilbert adds with a grin and, by the way Lovino’s breath hitches, Matthew has the distinct impression that he’s rubbing his foot up Lovino’s pant leg.

Lovino takes a moment to uncurl, breathing deeply as he relaxes, opening his fingers for Matthew to intertwine them. Then he scoffs at Gilbert.

“Of course it’s romantic. Who do you take me for? France?”

“Francis can be romantic,” Gilbert says, waving his fork in the air.

“Yes. His relationship with England is the _epitome_ of romance, all right,” Lovino sneers.

“I think that’s more England’s fault than Francis’.” Gilbert shifts in his seat. He takes a bite, then adds while chewing, “You constantly yelling at me isn’t very romantic either.”

Lovino scrunches his nose at Gilbert’s table manners, pushing his own plate away in defiance. “You don’t particularly warrant romance, you know.”

“But we’ll make tonight romantic, yes?” Matthew interjects quickly.

Lovino pauses, gives him a very long look, but then smiles charmingly and lifts Matthew’s hand to his lips, kissing each knuckle tenderly. “I’ll seduce you until your knees buckle, _caro_.”

Matthew blushes furiously as Lovino lowers his eyes, lashes fluttering, and he’s relieved of the full onslaught of Lovino getting him hard without even really touching him by Gilbert catching Lovino’s chin.

“God, am I looking forward to that then,” Gilbert says and kisses him.

Lovino hums, fingers sliding across Gilbert’s bare arm before giving it a quick squeeze, focusing on his dinner again. Gilbert sags back into his chair, grinning madly. Matthew shakes his head, just a little exasperated.

After they finish their appetizer, Lovino is halfway out of his chair when Gilbert announces they should eat the main course at that magical hill.

“It will be _romantic_ ,” he sings, taking Lovino’s hands excitedly.

Lovino hesitates, but then Matthew touches his shoulder and starts to clear the dishes from the table, he relents. He packs the pasta in plastic containers, still insisting on some form of presentation, just because he needs a moment to collect himself.

Matthew and Gilbert do the dishes. Or better: Matthew does them and Gilbert occasionally whips the dishtowel against his ass until Matthew has had enough and threatens to drown him in the sink. Lovino gives a snort of approval as Gilbert finally starts to dry the plates, grumbling about bad influences.

When Lovino deems everything ready to go, having gone into the cellar to find two more bottles of red wine and procuring a picnic blanket from somewhere, they head out. Lovino makes Gilbert carry the food and Matthew the wine because he’s terrified he’ll somehow trip and ruin everything.

The hill is a good walk away, but they share one bottle as they stride along the vineyards and Lovino, after some prodding and a little more wine, starts to explain the myths and legends he remembers of ages long lost.

The sun has almost entirely set by the time they climb the steep hill, hues of pink and purple colouring the horizon that settle in deep blue overhead. Stars dot the sky available to them as the full moon lights their path.

Gilbert drops to the ground heavily even before Matthew has spread the blanket, lazily rolling his way on.

“I’m getting old,” he groans.

“Don’t complain; I’m older,” Lovino says as he settles beside him, brushing back his hair.

Matthew sits on Lovino’s other side, running a hand over his thigh and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “But it’s worth it, right?”

“You’re lucky, Matt,” Gilbert says and props himself up on his elbow so can give him a tired look. “You’re so young still. And didn’t grow up in the hell of Europe. Not that America didn’t have its own little hell, but, you know.” He sighs. “What I’d give to be young again.”

Lovino runs a hand through Gilbert’s hair. “If you sell your soul to a devil, I’ll have to banish you from Italy.”

Gilbert hums and closes his eyes, leaning his head on Lovino’s shoulder. “You won’t. You _wuv_ me.”

“Not if you talk like that I don’t.”

They open their tubs of food and eat as the last bits of sunlight  are finally taken with Helios (“or Apollo, it really depends on what people were feeling at the time, honestly.”). The other bottle of wine is shared until Gilbert flops back against the blanket and Lovino finishes the dregs, tossing the bottle out of harm’s way before Matthew wraps an arm around his stomach and drags him down with him.

Matthew tries to look for the constellations he’s learnt from the First Nation tribes, but not all of them seem to translate entirely to Europe. He knows Europe has their own versions, remembering Francis and Arthur speaking of them, but never actually learning their stories. They were just things people had made up a long time ago, so he turns to Lovino and asks if he knows.

He’s not disappointed.

Lovino begins to speak, softly at first, as if trying to remember, and has to pause often, struggling to translate them from Latin and Greek, but he moves through them, points at them and explains their stories and creation.

“You know a lot still,” Matthew sighs during a lull in storytelling—because that’s what it is. Lovino doesn’t just tell them, but speaks as if reading a story, as if they’re _there_ , colouring in vivid details with drops and rises of his voice.

The red of Lovino’s skin is illuminated by the moon, and Matthew presses a kiss against his neck as he curls by his side.

“Greece and I used to talk about the gods all the time. And the old man liked to make up constellations just because he could.” Lovino points to a cluster of stars. “He called those ‘Agrippina’s Unfortunates’ because that woman had a knack for murdering people to ensure Nero’s accession as an emperor, using him to take control of the empire herself.”

“Damn,” Gilbert mutters, fingers playing with the buttons of Lovino’s shirt. “Wasn’t Nero the one who set Rome on fire though?”

“Maybe. I wasn’t in Rome very often honestly.” Lovino sighs. “I’d stay right here, on Sicily. Rome tried to keep me from the politics most of the time.”

“Sounds nice. I wish I had been kept away from politics when I was small,” Matthew mumbles.

Lovino rests his hand in Matthew’s hair, his other finding Gilbert’s hand on his stomach. “It’s unavoidable. There was plenty of crap going on before Rome took me.”

“Less crap now, though,” Gilbert says.

“Less crap, more paperwork.”

Matthew laughs, reaching over to joining Lovino and Gilbert’s hands. “I’d rather have paperwork than war.”

“Eh. Both are overrated. Just quit and play video games all day,” Gilbert says flippantly.

Lovino scoffs. “And leave the country to Feli? Yeah. No.”

“And who should I leave the country to? Quebec? Do we really want Canada to be even more French than it already is?” Matthew wonders, giggling as Lovino tugs at his hair in reprove.

“Paperwork it is,” Gilbert agrees. “Paperwork and no war, so we can keep doing this in peace.”

“Sappy.”

“I swear, it’s something in Italian wine.”

“I bet,” Lovino mumbles dryly, pressing a kiss to Gilbert’s hair. He shifts, does the same to Matthew, and glances back at the stars.

They doze off under the twinkling night sky, peaceful and content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have _thoughts_ about Romano’s age and it’s that he’s secretly an old man


	3. At Matthew's

And now they’re at Matthew’s holiday home in British Columbia. It’s perhaps a little removed from society, a small wooden cabin tucked away on a mountain, a steep, dirt road the only means of getting there. Yet it’s remoteness is perfect for private retreats as not even Alfred knows of its location.

Lovino stares down the side of the mountain, hands in his pockets. Gilbert has finally detached himself from the car leather, stumbling out of the car, still looking a little green. Matthew shoots him a worried glance past his shoulder and unlocks the front door.

Matthew smiles as he takes a quick inventory of the place, finds the age-old furniture still intact if terribly dusty, and notes that the ancient fireplace could definitely use some good scrubbing. Yet, it’s the closest he has to a home. This place and, he thinks fondly, his boyfriends. Even if they’re currently creating a ruckus outside.

He sighs and stalks back outside, fully intend to give them a proper scolding, but pauses atop the stairs. Gilbert is standing by Lovino who’s keeping a steadying arm around Gilbert’s waist.

Matthew slowly walks toward them and Lovino notices him from the corner of his eye. Gilbert doesn’t until Matthew stands on his other side, intertwining his fingers with an encouraging smile.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

Gilbert takes a deep breath, his eyes bronze in the light of the setting sun. “Better. I thought you were supposed to be a good driver, Matthew.”

“I am. And I can’t be worse than Lovino.”

Lovino narrows his eyes at him. “I’m right here. My driving is perfectly fine.”

“No, it isn’t,” both Matthew and Gilbert chorus and share a grin.

Lovino scowls and mutters, “I get you there alive, don’t I?” It carries an overall message of, _What more do you want from me_?

Gilbert snorts, arm sneaking around Lovino’s waist and squeezing his side. It earns him an elbow in between his ribs, which carries over to Matthew in Gilbert’s momentum and they almost slip down the side of the mountain if it weren’t for  Lovino’s surprising upper body strength.

Matthew decides that going inside is now a priority, especially with how faint Gilbert appears, and he tugs them along.

He rubs his hands and figures he should get started on cleaning the fireplace first. Lovino ambles off toward the kitchen to figure out what he can do in terms of cooking. Gilbert collapses on the old rickety couch Matthew had bought from a toothless old man in Saskatchewan. It complains loudly, and Gilbert freezes.

Carefully, as if not to hurt it any further, he rolls off, hitting the pale red rug with a soft _oomph_.  A cloud of dust puffs around him and he sneezes, covering his face. Matthew turns to him, already partially done with cleaning the fireplace.

“Matt,” Gilbert says as he sits, “no offence, but this place is fucking disgusting.

“I mean, it’s to be expected,” Matthew answers with a shrug, turning back to the task at hand. “I haven’t been here since, hm, 1973?”

“Christ.” Gilbert stands up, scowls at the filth on his shirt and then around the room. There’s what sounds like an avalanche of pots falling to the floor in the kitchen and Gilbert seems to come to a decision with a firm nod. “Okay. It’s time to clean then. Where’s your cleaning stuff?”

Matthew chuckles and leads Gilbert to the storage cabinet, leaving him there to figure everything out himself in favour of checking whether he has to call a trauma helicopter for Lovino.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to, finding Lovino pressed against the counter, scowling at the ocean of pots he had created. Matthew almost turns back around because he prefers Gilbert’s clean freak tendencies over Lovino’s “ _what the fuck is up with all this useless trash, Matthew? How can you do anything here?_ ”

Unfortunately for Matthew, Lovino had addressed that to him, so Matthew is forced to help Lovino sort through all his junk and throw away the things he definitely no longer needs in the modern age.

“Some of it is Alfred’s,” Matthew defends as Lovino turns over an old waffle iron in the shape of Texas, looking at it with such distaste that Matthew feels sorry for it.

“Yeah, yeah.” Lovino drops it in a bag dubbed _shit some museums or weird collectors might like_. He mutters, “You’re as bad as me.”

Matthew winces, remembering Lovino’s forbidden ex-guest room in the house he shares with Feliciano in Rome. After seeing that room, it had honestly surprised Matthew that Lovino’s country home had been as clean as it was. He had asked, and Lovino had just kind of looked at him and shrugged, saying something along the lines of, “Crap piles up in a house I don’t care for.” Matthew had felt just a tad bit bad for Feliciano.

Gilbert enters the kitchen then, or stands in the doorway, frowning at the new collection of trash bags Matthew seemed to have accumulated. He lets Lovino grumble, training his sharp gaze on Matthew instead.

“I’m going to clean the living room and finish kindling that fire, ‘kay? You do upstairs and I’ll join you when I’m done because I’m betting your bedrooms are a dusty disaster.” He pauses, eyes the stuff on the floor. “I’m guessing you’re going to fix up the kitchen, Lovi?”

Lovino waves him off because if there’s one room in the house he doesn’t mind cleaning, it’s his _kingdom_.

Matthew is given a bucket with everything he could possibly need and orders to clean every surface. Gilbert will come and check, causing Matthew to groan as he climbs the stairs. It’s going to take forever, having dressers covered with so many figures and jewellery boxes of various sizes from people he’s met across the years that he might as well dump the entire bucket on top to spare himself the effort.

It’s tedious work that he takes as seriously as he can, reaching up on dressers, shelves and closets to be as thorough as possible. He’s gone through the guest room and is currently in the study when Gilbert joins him. He’s humming what sounds a lot like the guitar solo from “Free Bird”, grinning at Matthew as he brandishes a duster and attacks the cobwebs.

With Gilbert’s help, they have the study fixed in another half hour, and the master bedroom in the next hour or so. They change the sheets, sharing a long slow kiss on top until Gilbert finally decides they’ve given Lovino enough time to finish the kitchen. Matthew reluctantly rolls off after prying another heady kiss from his lips.

They find the Italian on his hands and knees on the kitchen floor, halfway underneath the table as he reaches for something. Gilbert takes the opportunity to slap his ass, _hard_ , and Lovino yelps, hitting his head against the hardwood above him.

“You’re such a fucker, Gilbert,” he hisses.

Gilbert shrugs and runs his fingers across the counter top to check for dust. He seems satisfied because he smiles and nods in Lovino’s direction. “I’m a simple man, Lovino. I see a perk ass, I slap it.”

Lovino mumbles something hateful, but the red in his cheeks is mostly from embarrassment, so he doesn’t actually mean it, and he allows Matthew to help him off the floor.

“So, how much did you throw out?” Matthew asks as Lovino throws the broken corkscrew in one of the three trash bags now propped up next to the door.

“Everything from before the eighties for sure,” he answers. “Except for that hideous clay mug engraved by America because I know how annoyingly attached we get to trash we receive from our family.”

Matthew smiles, cupping Lovino’s cheeks and stealing a loving kiss from him.

“Oh, that reminds me, right,” Gilbert says. “I found these old drawing Lutz did when he was this tall—” He grins, illustrating his height by reaching down to his mid-thigh. “He got so flustered, wanting me to throw them away. I framed them instead and hung them in the guest room he usually takes.”

Matthew laughs as Lovino shakes his head in exasperation with a small smile.

“I have every single painting Feliciano has ever given me,” Lovino says. “Plus, every single souvenir he’s ever bought me. I have a whole closet filled with them.”

“Ah, so you have more secret clutter stashes?” Matthew grins and playfully elbows Lovino.

Lovino scoffs and swats his arm away.

“So, what’s for dinner, _S_ _ü_ _ß_ _er_?” Gilbert asks, wrapping and arm around Lovino and steering him to the fridge, the most modern thing in the house by a long shot.

“Stew,” Lovino says with no hesitation. He must’ve planned it out while cleaning. “You’re all helping; I’m tired.”

Matthew squeezes Gilbert’s side before he can comment on that. “Wonderful,” he says. “Where do we start?”


	4. Together

That night finds them in bed, undressed and touching, the beginnings of so much more.

“Lovino, you’re awesome, you know? Almost as awesome as me,” Gilbert sighs as Lovino kisses along his jaw.

Lovino pulls back, just a little, giving Gilbert a narrow look. “I swear there’s a better use for that mouth of yours, Gilbert.”

Matthew runs his fingers along Gilbert’s thigh, earning a low whine, then reaches up to cup Lovino’s cheek to catch his attention. He presses a kiss against the corner of his mouth before he trails kisses down his neck.

Lovino hums appreciatively, then groans as Matthew scrapes his teeth against his throat. “Like Matthew.” His hands slide down Matthew’s chest, tease the curls below his navel before touching Matthew so teasingly light, thumb brushing over the head.

Gilbert shuffles closer and leans over to bite Lovino’s shoulder. He kisses and scrapes and sucks the spot for a long moment before he starts licking his way up Lovino’s neck. He nibbles at his ear, earning a throaty noise. There, he breathes, “Like that?”

Turning his head to probably snap something back, it's lost as Lovino moans when Matthew licks his nipple, and then Matthew moans too because Lovino’s finger tighten around him and it’s _so good_.

Gilbert chuckles, pressing kisses along Lovino’s jaw, catching his lips in an open-mouthed kiss so unbelievably hot that Matthew bucks in Lovino’s hand. Yet, Lovino keeps his movements slow and teasing, fingers almost caressing Matthew’s length and it’s so terribly aggravating.

“Lovino,” Matthew whines, uncaring of how needy he might sound. It’s starting to ache just a little and he needs the friction.

It does the trick, though, Lovino’s attention shifting from Gilbert to Matthew. Gilbert, too, turns to him, and there is something so wolfish about them both that Matthew could never get enough of.

Gilbert’s hand joins Lovino’s and it’s almost too much. Matthew finds purchase on both their shoulders, digs his nails in as he groans. Then Lovino noses along his stubbly cheek, kisses him deeply as his hand settles on Matthew’s cheek, tangling in his hair before his other hands moves up to play with Matthew’s nipple. Matthew is only faintly aware of the gasp that leaves Lovino’s lips as Gilbert’s other hand wraps around him as well, breaking the kiss momentarily before he licks his way back inside.

Thinking becomes hard when Gilbert leans forward, breath ghosting over the head of Matthew dick shortly before he dismisses any sort of preamble in favour of taking Matthew in. Matthew moans, loud and wanting, until Lovino swallows it by kissing him again.

Arching back, desperate for air, Matthew all but whimpers when Lovino’s lips nibble a path down his neck, kissing and biting and murmuring things in Italian and somehow it’s in sync with the way Gilbert’s tongue curls around his dick, making it so hard for Matthew to do anything else than clench his fingers into Gilbert’s hair.

Yet, through the haze, Matthew slides his free hand over Lovino’s thigh and wraps around him, enjoying the small sigh that escapes Lovino perhaps a little too much. And perhaps Gilbert knows because after one final suck, he removes his mouth to press a kiss against Lovino’s shoulder and then to Matthew’s mouth.

They are so focused on him tonight that Matthew is left entirely breathless, unable to do much more than squirm as they please him.

“Gilbert,” he breathes because the man has returned to his cock and takes him in entirely and it’s so _warm_. Matthew is so very close now and he makes a noise when he meets Lovino’s eyes, smoldering with a warmth reserved only for him and Gilbert. “Lovino,” he beckons, moans, because Gilbert is _really_ putting his mouth to good use now.

Lovino smiles, caresses Matthew’s hair, brushes it from his eyes before he trails his fingers down, presses kisses after them. Featherlight at first, but as he grazes past his Adam’s apple and settles in the crook of his neck, he bites down harshly because he _knows_ Matthew likes that.

Matthew has to clutch at Lovino’s shoulders then, a soft French murmur all the warning he could give Gilbert before he comes. He collapses in Lovino’s arms, breathing deeply as Lovino pets his hair, receiving a breathy chuckle from him.

Gilbert shifts, pressing a hand against Matthew’s thigh as he pushes himself up. He and Lovino kiss, wet and sloppily, sliding their tongues together. When they break apart and Lovino swallows with a scoff, Gilbert’s fingers curl into Matthew’s hair as well.

It’s a sweet, peaceful moment between the three of them. They are rare because Gilbert is very vocal in general and Lovino is vocal about that, so sometimes Matthew is dragged along and then _sometimes_ he’s the one who has to be the most vocal to end it.

Matthew breathes deeply, slowly comes off his high, and he wonders how Gilbert and Lovino aren’t going mad at the lack of stimulation. He dares a peek at Gilbert from where he has hidden his face in the crook of Lovino’s neck, finding his amused eyes snapping to him instantly. A grin spreads on his lips and he reaches for Lovino’s erection.

“Lovi,” he purrs, running his nails along the shaft. “What can I do for you, _S_ _ü_ _ß_ _er_?”

Lovino’s breath hitches and he burns red all the way up to his ears, warms Matthew’s cheek. Yet when Matthew leans back to check his expression, he finds Lovino’s eyes narrowed at Gilbert.

Noticing Matthew’s shifting, Lovino glances at him, frown smoothing out into something far more sly as he licks his lips.

“Matthew should finish what he started,” he says, voice low and just a little husky.

Matthew flushes and Gilbert grins impossibly wider because he gets a huge kick from watching.

Stuttering something unintelligible, Matthew sighs softly as Lovino runs a finger along his jaw, those golden eyes so bright. Gilbert’s hand is still moving lazily, teasing Lovino until something moves along. Not that Lovino appears very affected, having cultivated the art of slow sex to an extreme level.

Matthew takes Lovino’s hand and starts to press kisses along the tendons, along his palm, his wrist, along the smattering of freckles on his arm. He grazes his teeth on the mark left by Gilbert earlier, earning himself a breathy moan.

Lovino’s fingers dig in his arm and he turns his head sharply when Gilbert stops touching him and moves to his nipples instead.

“Bastard,” he growls, grabbing a handful of Gilbert’s hair and tugging him into a harsh kiss.

Matthew winces when he hears their teeth clack together, though neither man seems to care much as they don’t break apart, simply melding it into something a little sweeter the longer they kiss. Continuing his path down Lovino’s chest, drawing constellations with his tongue and lips, he earns little gasps and quiet moans that interrupts the kissing above him minutely.

Lovino moans when Matthew licks and kisses along the shaft, fumbling to run his hand through Matthew’s hair. Gilbert swallows the sound greedily in another searing kiss just as Matthew takes the head in his mouth.

He vaguely hears Lovino mutter something that he knows has to do with Gilbert touching himself, but is otherwise preoccupied with the taste, smell, feeling, the _everything_ of Lovino. There’s a scuffle that Matthew ends with a sharp suck and a pinch to a thigh, whose he doesn’t know. Lovino’s fingers dig almost painfully into his scalp.

Lovino’s hips twitch and, while Lovino has great control over his movements generally, Matthew places a preemptive hand on his hipbone, rubbing circles as he continues his ministrations. Lovino is saying something again, probably directed at Gilbert because they both know Matthew goes more or less deaf when he’s busy, and Gilbert moans in that pitch that only Lovino’s meticulous movements can achieve.

“Matthew, _caro_ ,” Lovino sighs and the other half of the sentence is drowned in a moan as he comes in Matthew’s mouth. Gilbert must have done something, and judging by the pale fingers sliding down Lovino’s chest he _had_ , because normally Lovino never came that easily.

Matthew sits back and swallows, licking his lips to make sure he gets everything. It often freaks Gilbert out a little because he’s really difficult about it while Lovino only does it so it’s less of a mess to clean up.

Just as Matthew swipes his hair away from his eyes, Gilbert groans, low and throaty, and Matthew can’t help but chuckle at the look of absolute bliss on his face as he falls back on the bed with a happy little sigh. Lovino absently licks his fingers, eyes roving across Gilbert’s form.

Matthew is tempted to reach for those fingers and lick them clean himself, but Gilbert pats the empty space next to him, so instead he presses a kiss to Lovino’s cheek before he curls along Gilbert’s side, sighing as Gilbert wraps his arm around his waist. Lovino watches them for a moment longer, a fondness in his eyes as he comes off his high. When he regains movement of his limbs, he wipes his hand on a towel and crawls on top of Gilbert and falls down with a huff.

“Heavy,” Gilbert complains, but still slides his free arm down Lovino’s back, giving his butt a quick squeeze before repositioning him in a more comfortable position.

“Shut up.” Lovino presses his nose against Gilbert’s collarbone, He pinches Gilbert’s hip in retaliation, but then reaches out to Matthew and runs his hand along Matthew’s arm.

Matthew smiles, catching it and settling it on his hip with a satisfied sigh. He then searches for the comforter and throws it over them, making sure that whatever he can reach of Lovino and Gilbert is covered. Gilbert ensures they’re all tucked in, sighing in deeply sated content.

“I love you,” Matthew says drowsily, pressing a kiss to Gilbert’s side. “ _Je vous aime_.”

Matthew really likes to make sure his boyfriends know and tries to say it as often as possible, feeling the need to affirm his affections because the men he loves are so terribly stubborn. Though, it isn’t as if they don’t return his words. Gilbert generally declares it at the most random of times, in the spur of the moment before he goes on with whatever he was thinking before while Lovino is much more subdued, sighing it whenever rarely he is feeling particularly affectionate.

Lovino squeezes his side in reply, golden eyes glinting. “ _Vi amo._ ”

Gilbert’s hand tangles in Matthew’s hair and he sighs what almost sounds like a snore, though he still mumbles an, “ _Ich liebe euch_ ,” as he drifts off.

Matthew hums, snuggling as close as he can. He watches as Lovino’s eyes droop, wanting to enjoy this peaceful moment for as long as he can, but after a yawn, his own eyelids give up and he falls into a dreamless slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: This is pretty much the first smutty fic I’ve ever written and idk why I thought it was a good idea to start with a polyamorous relationship but here we are. Please forgive me
> 
> Another Fun Fact: pretty much every European language has a plural form for you except English and I almost forgot about that. So yeah, vous, vi (voi), and euch (ihr) basically mean y’all in English terms.


End file.
